“Humph!” he grunted, when she had finished. “So Obed Bangs advised you to try it, hey? That don't make me think no better of it, as I know of. I know Bangs pretty well.”
“Yes,” dryly; “I supposed likely you did. Anyhow, he said he knew you.”
“He did, hey? Told you some things about me, hey?”
“No, he didn't tell me anything except that you and he had had some dealin's. Now, Mr. Cobb, we've talked a whole lot and it don't seem to me we got anywheres. If you don't want to take a mortgage on that place—”
“Sshh! Who said I didn't want to take it? How do I know what I want to do yet? Lord! How you women do go on! Suppose I should take a mortgage on that place—mind, I don't say I will, but suppose I should—how would I know that the mortgage would be paid, or the interest, or anything?”
“If it ain't paid you can foreclose when the time comes, I presume likely. As for the interest—well, I'm fairly honest, or I try to be, and that'll be paid reg'lar if I live.”
“Ya'as. Well, fur's honesty goes, I could run a seine through Ostable County any day in the week and load a schooner with honest folks; and there wouldn't nary one of 'em have cash enough to pay for the wear and tear on the net. Honesty's good policy, maybe, but it takes hard money to pay bills.”
Thankful stood up.
“All right,” she said, decidedly, “then I'll go where they play the honest game. And you needn't set there and weed your face any more on my account.”
Mr. Cobb rose also. “There! there!” he protested. “Don't get het up. I don't say I won't take your mortgage, do I?”